Fight For You
by MadrigalPrism
Summary: There comes an end for everything but first there comes one who will put their foot down and take a stand. You can't crush everyone.
1. Chapter 1

**No idea what's going on with this. Just came to mind, thought I'd write it out. Disclaimer: Don't own OUAT, just playing around with the characters and relationships**

It's become a violent need. A desire neither wish to speak of. It lays heavy in the air, sparks fly, caresses are made of pure fire, and nothing could taste bitterer than the moments afterwards. A glow never follows their actions. Sweat clings to their skin, cheeks tinted red, chests heave in command to their lungs, hearts beat in the wild. Muscles are too weak to move but one of them beckons their body to move. To slip from the warm haven, away from inviting arms never held open. No one speaks. The silence stings and they both know it.

It's a wish to speak. One of them must break this course except they don't dare in fear of sounding needy. They are anything but. Sometimes it's a blur to remember how all this started. Was it the heat of an argument, the rolling of eyes, or the mere gaze of pure hatred that fuel the… passion down this road? In the end it doesn't matter because they don't speak about it.

She wonders if people know. Passing glances linger longer and it eggs the thoughts to the forefront of her mind. This can't be healthy… No she knows this isn't healthy. She swayed from the path and now drifts among the unrelenting chaos. The air never wants to put her down. Its desire is to throw her left to right. Her head is spinning and the thoughts are crazy. Insane even. She pushes them aside, casting them away as if they mean nothing.

Wishful thinking.

They always come back to haunt her. Silent moments pass at work, no one is around, the paperwork is finished and they sneak their way in. The blonde is frozen at her desk, eyes trained on nothing, lost in the whispering of thoughts. A pain stabs her chest. She does not like where this is heading.

Never before has she hated the direction of the unknown. In the beginning, it was fine, normal, routine even. But now… She hates it. The unknown mocks her, casts a shadow of gloom on sunny days. She wants it to end. She needs it to end. Or it will swallow her alive.

Wind sweeps through blonde hair as she stands outside in front of the clock tower. The hands appear frozen except she knows better. Her eyes are deceiving her into thinking they cannot move. She looks over her shoulder at the city. People move about, oblivious to her thoughts, and for that she is put at ease. The Sheriff has grown to love this place. This tiny, sleepy town where everyone knows everyone and secrets are hard to keep. She is surprised her biggest secret isn't front page news. Then she remembers who her secret involves and no longer finds it surprising. Though the thought stings her heart. She likes to think if she could change it she would, right?

Wishful thinking once again.

Seconds tick by at a painstaking pace. She wants the day to end. She seeks the solace of another. Of the one who is cause of all her problems. It is an addiction. A drug she cannot get enough of. The bitter pill she swallows every day since it all began. In a way she hates herself for it but she hates herself even more when she climbs out the window in the dead of the night. She hates herself for not having the courage to voice her thoughts. In a way she is afraid of what would happen. She's playing with fire and she's already been burned more than once. This time, however, she knows the burn will sting for months to come rather than seconds.

Her mind drifts into its poison day after day. The changes can be seen. She waves them aside. Others speak to her, asking if she's alright. She always answers with 'I'm fine.' A lie no one calls her on. She hopes they believe it to be work or the ever present watchful eye of Madame Mayor. In a way their thoughts are not wrong. Are they afraid to call her out on the lie? Do they know of the secret tearing her apart? She cares about neither answer. The one question she does want answered she cannot bring herself to voice. Not to _her_.

The thought of happiness slips away. She once thought she could change _her_ and now she knows she never stood a chance. We fool ourselves into thinking we can make others different, that we can guide them back to the path they've strayed from. It is not so. Yet she doesn't know what compels her to keep this hope lit. In this week, things are quiet. The apartment she shares feels cold, quiet, and alone even with her roommate present. She hates it. Her thoughts drift to the one person she wants to forget just for one week.

That night her mind is made up. Set on the goal she swore never to voice. The sheriff does not sneak around the back, doesn't climb the side of the house and sneak into the bedroom. No, tonight things are going to be done differently. Her nerves are wide awake when she rings the doorbell. Her throat feels dry and constricted. The voice in her mind is screaming to turn around and run but it is too late when the door swings open.

Brown eyes flash with emotion before turning to stone. It is enough to silence the scared voice. Words aren't spoken, shoulder brushes against shoulder in the absent manner, and she feels the warm seep through her clothes. It is too late to back out.

Nothing moves in the house. No one utters a single word. She can't. She's frozen by twin brown pools and the gaze she seeks to understand. This is an uphill battle. Her energy is almost spent. She can't do this alone. For the first time, she puts her stubbornness aside and reaches out for help. The hand that takes hers should be the one she wants it to be or at least she hopes that is what will happen.

"Sheriff-"

"Don't…" she finds herself cutting the other off.

"Excuse me?" The words drip with contempt.

There is a spark in the air among the silent, heavy air. A little spark she likes to see as a small flame of hope. Blue locks with brown. The fracture makes itself known and Emma seizes the chance.

"I can't-" No that wasn't right. She shakes her head to clear off the remaining doubt. "No, I won't keep doing this."

**Not sure if I should continue this. It's probably nothing special anyway. If I do continue it, it'll probably start at the beginning or something. Who knows. Let me know what you think**


	2. Chapter 2

**Since this is my first fic ever posted on here, it's unbetaed and I figured people wanted an update.**

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><p>"<em>Meeting you here, the night's alight with midnight cheer"<em>

**7 Months Ago**

Rain gushes from the sky. Each drop hammers against the ground, swallowing every other sound. The work day has come to an end. Or so she likes to believe. Instead Sheriff Swan walks out of the station and into the rain. Her world drifts on the monochrome of every day routine. She enjoys this life in her mind. In her heart she wants something more. Someone more. It's an impossible wish. Infuriating and devastating.

She does not bother with finding shelter from the relentless rain. She grabs no umbrella or extra jacket from her car. No, this is her way of accepting the rain, of inviting it in to wash away her imperfections. Her sinful thoughts. Except it doesn't work. Her heart grows heavier with each step lingering in the rain.

Thoughts swirl through her mind. She feels as though she is falling down the rabbit hole. A silly expression when she stops to think about it. The rabbit hole. Alice in Wonderland. A fairy tale. Those words bring back the reality of where she is: Storybrooke the haven of every fairytale character that has ever existed. At least that is what her son believes.

She likes that he believes in something. It gives credit to his imagination yet she cannot follow down his path. She's seen too much, experienced too much to know the world is more than just black and white. Even her heart wars with her thoughts and sadly there is nothing black and white about it.

Unfocused she looks to the dark rain clouds blocking out the evening stars. She wants to see stars tonight. Their presence gives her a small comfort and stills the ache inside of her body. Rain slaps against her face. She closes her eyes embracing it in silence. Each drop stings for a second. The stings are welcomed. A comfort even. They make her forget and allow her to focus on something else.

Emma finds herself drifting while on patrol. Not much happens at night to warrant a patrol but being the sole officer she has a duty to perform. A mindless duty that isn't to keep the town safe, but the tyrant queen sated.

Buildings are stripped from her mind. Her eyes blink the cold water from their lashes. She feels a faint smile tug at her lips. The rain always hides your tears. It was a fact she learned when she was younger, naïve, and filled with happy wishes. Now she finds the fact making her feel at ease. No one would know if their 'savior', as her son dubbed her, was having a breakdown.

Green eyes looked around to find trees replacing the buildings. Stone slabs sprouted out of the ground like hardened flowers. Statues loomed in various spots, drinking in the fine wine raining down from the sky. It was Storybrooke's cemetery. A place she once was and never felt the need to return. It should feel strange being here yet it doesn't. She feels nothing save for the rain. Vaguely she wonders if her red jacket will be ruined in the morning. The thought does not last long.

She wanders along the dead when she finds she is no longer alone. Not far from her stands the mausoleum she and Graham broke into. How she ended up here she does not know. Emma is about to leave when her eyes catch sight of the door slightly ajar. She doubts it is trouble though knows being sheriff demands she investigates. Not bothering with her gun, a pointless accessory in this town, she walks closer. Her eyes and ears are peeled for anything out of the ordinary. A foot and a half away from the door it suddenly opens wider and she nearly collides with the tyrant queen. Stumbling away Emma seeks a place to hide. It is too late. She's caught by icy brown eyes.

"Sheriff Swan," the voice bites harder than the rain, "What, may I ask, are you doing here?"

Emma shrugs and moves some of her wet hair from her face, "Out on patrol, mayor." She wants to say more at the break in her peace. She holds her tongue instead waiting for the other woman to pass.

"The cemetery is hardly a place for patrol." The mayor makes no attempts at being friendly. Her tone is filled with power. She enjoys having people under her rule, to command around, and should one disobey there is trouble to pay.

"Better safe than sorry," says Emma tasting the rain on her tongue. "Good evening, Madame Mayor." The blonde woman moves to go past the mayor and continue on her aimlessly wanderings.

"I'd prefer you not to see Henry this week."

The words stop her dead in her tracks. The mayor couldn't allow her simple passage just this once could she? Was it too much to ask for? Emma resists the urge to roll her eyes before she turns around. "Why is that?"

"You're walking in the rain," states Regina as if it makes the answer obvious.

"Well thank you, Sherlock, for that cunning observation." Emma wasn't in the mood to deal with the mayor's strict policies or guidelines. She pretends not to notice the brief confusion in the brunette's eyes at the mention of Sherlock. Perhaps the mayor isn't the type to read murder mysteries.

"Your tone is highly inappropriate, Sheriff." Her voice turns another dial colder. Emma wonders if it turns another notch down it might snow. "I was suggesting not to come around Henry when you have a cold. I don't want my son to become infected with your germs."

Emma chuckles, "Like it or not, mayor, he's already infected with my germs. You know, I kinda carried him in here." She puts her hand on her stomach. "It's probably a germfest in there." There is a small pleasure she receives from watching Regina's face twist in disgust.

She hesitates to say something but the mayor decides against it. She settles for a simple end to their meeting. "Still, stay away from him this week." She turns on her heel to stalk out of the cemetery.

"Why are you like this?"

The words bring silence to the rain. Both women freeze at the words: one because she thinks she kept them in her mind and the other is stunned. The world slowly moves around them. It's not enough to cut through the tension.

"Excuse me?" The venom has returned to the mayor's voice. She tried to be nice this evening, a small gesture on her part, only to have it thrown back into her face. She whips around. Rain drops fly from the ends of her dark locks, splattering against her jacket. She does nothing to hide the angry expression on her face.

The sheriff wants to take a step back, to disappear into the surrounding quietness. But there is something keeping her still. It was the way Regina spoke: the high and mighty tone, the unspoken accusation of defying her. Emma stands her ground and raises her head. "I said why are you like this? I have done nothing to trespass on your grounds."

Those words elicit a laugh from Regina. "Nothing?" she repeats mockingly, "You are not that naïve, Swan. You come into my town," she finds herself walking… no stalking towards the blonde like a panther eyeing its prey, "With my son. Instead of leaving you stay. You know you don't belong here. Henry does not belong to you. He is my son and this is my town. And now," they are separated by less than two feet, "you have the nerve to say you haven't trespassed on what's mine." Regina leans closer, her voice drops lower, "The first step you took in my town was a trespass."

"I don't see your name on the ground," counters Emma. She refuses to back down. She cannot allow the mayor to think she has the upper hand. "You may think you own this place and its people when you can't even keep it together. You can't even keep yourself together."

The silent rain is instantly shattered when a powerful, cold hand meets an equally cold cheek. Emma is nearly flung to the ground. Somehow she manages to stay on her feet. Her next action remains a blur to her to this very day. She likes to believe she was not thinking at the time. It is a lie she repeats over and over.

The sheriff does not speak as she turns to look at the fuming mayor. Suddenly her hand shoots out, grabs the front of the expensive jacket, and pulls the brunette closer. Somewhere in the blur Emma presses her lips against the mayor's hard. For the second time she has stunned the supposed immovable woman. A spark is ignited deep inside of her, planting a feeling she has never felt before.

It disappears like the rain. A second slap rings out in the cemetery. Before Emma can recover the spark returns. Her eyes flutter closed, the rain hammering around them fades away. Nothing exists at that moment in that place except for two people becoming lost in each other.

It is not a gentle kiss. Nothing about that night would be gentle. It is laced with bruising force, hard bites, and a relentless fight for dominance. When air is needed and they are separated, neither speaks. Words no longer become necessary. Regina leads the sheriff by an invisible leash out of the cemetery. She doesn't know where they are going and doesn't bother to ask. Her thoughts are consumed by what is to come.

Trees become thicker here. The grass disappears, swallowed by weeds and underbrush of the forest. Emma wants to ask what the destination is when they arrive at a dark cabin. She never saw it in the distance. Silently she is beckoned inside. The moment the door closes a fire develops between their lips. Clothing is not gently removed instead it is pulled this way and that. Buttons are yanked open, some bouncing their newfound freedom on the ground. A shirt is ripped to shreds. She doesn't know if it is hers or Regina's.

They don't make love in the cabin. That is a forbidden act and something neither of them wants at this moment. Their actions are filled with a fueled hatred they share. A pain in both hearts lies unspoken behind every touch. Each caress is done in hard precision. Moans and groans transform into a poison. No one comments on the blood the other draws. The way flawless skin is now battered and ruined. Words are swallowed by bitter kisses and dangerous bites. Saliva is overtaken by a copper zing making both yearn for more.

The duel between mayor and sheriff lasts until light peeks into the cabin. Sweat lingers on their broken and bruised skin. The extent of the damage is seen in brief glimpses yet neither woman can say their apology for they aren't sorry. It was a fueled moment nothing more. A release from the onslaught of anger.

Regina is the first to climb out of bed. She finds her clothing fast as if this is all she is about; do the deed then leave like nothing ever happened. It does not surprise Emma who remains in bed, staring at the ceiling. She listens to the whispers of clothing being slipped on. There are faint sighs of disapproval when the mayor comes across a ruined article. Still the cabin stays quiet. And Emma knows she is alone when heels click against the wood in confident strides and the front door closes.

Emma licks her lips, noticing the cut on her bottom lip. She does not taste blood as her tongue darts over it instead she tastes the poison she spent the entire night consuming. She fears she will become addicted and prays this is a one time thing. Little does she know of her own downfall.

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><p><strong>Was the update worth it? Should it be continued? Give me your thoughts.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

_"Restoration at 63%."_

"Snow," addressed the blue fairy godmother, only when the brunette looked up did she continue, "We're making slow but steady progress. The spell is breaking."

What was supposed to be good news didn't feel like it. Snow felt even more defeated than ever before. A heavy sigh left her lips as the invisible weight pressed harder on her shoulders. "What if it doesn't?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"What do you mean?" The blue fairy looked from the queen to the king then back again.

"What if the spell can't be broken? What if it's true-"

"Snow," warned James. He stopped her from finishing even though the same thought had crossed his mind earlier. He refused to voice it. "You know it's not. It's just another spell brought on by Regina."

The brunette looked at her husband with tears in her eyes. "I hope you're right, James." She leaned into his embrace as the first tear fell.

Watching the scene unfold Henry thought he'd care more but what they were doing made him furious. He excused himself to grab a soda but at the last minute turned the other corner. Constantly peering over his shoulder he raced down the hospital corridor. His heart hammered in his chest as he pushed open door after door: one destination in mind. White began to blur his vision, he didn't remember the hospital being this big and he prayed he wasn't going in the wrong direction. He had to put a stop to this.

Suddenly he came to a halt. Warmth flowed into his shoulder and as the world around him stilled he found himself face to face with Dr. Whale.

"Henry, is everything alright?" the doctor's face was covered with concern.

The boy wanted to scream at him, to tell him no. Instead Henry swallowed his anger, sucked in a deep breath, and shook his head. "No," he said in a steady calm voice, "Snow just wants an update. She's really getting impatient." He kept his fingers crossed, hoping the doctor would catch the hint. Much to his surprise it worked.

"Okay," nodded Dr. Whale, "I'll go talk to her."

Henry bit back a smile. "Wait Dr. Whale, could I stay for a bit?"

The doctor took a moment to think it over. Henry half thought he was going to be sent out of the room. "Sure, just don't touch anything." the boy gave his agreement as he watched the man leave the room. When he was certain he was alone he took in the room. The walls were white without any windows and he felt his heart sink a bit. This was going to be harder than he imagined. Only one way in and out of this place. Still the minor setback did nothing to shake his resolve. He had to do this. It was after all the right thing to do.

Walking towards the large glass oval he felt his heart racing, every beat hammered in his ears making it seem as though his heartbeat was filling the entire room. He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. Touching the glass he took in the form of his sleeping mother, the woman who had given him up at birth. She looked more peaceful than he'd ever seen but Henry knew this was merely an illusion. She wasn't happy. What they were doing was taking away her happiness and he was the only one who could stop it.

"Emma!" his tiny fists pounded against the glass. "Emma!"

It was no use. She couldn't hear him. Looking over his shoulder he rushed over the console. The various buttons and controls told him nothing increasing the difficulty of his mission. He didn't want to hurt her by pushing random buttons. "It has to be here somewhere," he whispered. Lost in thought he failed to notice someone appearing behind him.

"Henry."

The boy whipped around at the sound of his name. His mission was over. He failed. Now they were definitely going to take away the happy ending he had seen too late. "Archie," he said hopefully, "They're rewriting Emma's memories. Making her forget-"

"I know," said Archie. "I know, Henry. It's why I'm here to help you." He brushed past his former patient and looked at the console. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"I thought you were on their side," said Henry.

"I want to be," said Archie slowly pressing a few buttons, "but what they're doing isn't right. Besides this is keeping them distracted from larger problems. You know that don't you?" He paused his work to look at the child.

"Then it's true," whispered Henry. The concern on his former doctor's face told him the answer. He wanted to cry but he knew now wasn't the time. He had to remain strong not just for Emma, but for his mother too.

"Henry," hearing his name pulled him out of his thoughts. "Once we get Emma free I want you to take her to the lower levels of the hospital. Here is the access code. Down there you will meet with August. Don't worry he's on our side and he'll get you both to a safe place."

Henry frowned, "What about you?"

"Marco and I are staying up here. We have to buy you enough time to get to August. Whatever you do, don't look back. Got it?" Archie waited until the child nodded then finishing putting in the last sequence of buttons. A quiet swoosh filled the room as the large oval container opened. "We don't have much time."

Together they rushed towards Emma. Seconds before reaching her the alarm went off. "Hurry," said Archie. He took one of Emma's arms, draped it over his shoulder and pulled her to her feet. Henry wanted to help when the doctor told him to open the door. From the corner of his vision he caught a glimpse of a dark figure heading towards him and feared the worse.

"Quickly," said Marco stepping into the light, "This way." He ushered them down a corridor Henry wasn't familiar with. "How much damage do you think they've inflicted?"

"Without the proper examination, I don't know," said Archie. "The report said 63%. If we're lucky we can restore her original memory."

Marco shook his head, "When did they become so desperate?" The question was muttered under his breath yet both of them heard it.

"Love makes people do desperate things," stated Archie. To which the elderly janitor could only nod, he knew of his own love and desperate actions and the price it cost him. But still this was extreme especially for them.

Suddenly footsteps echoed behind them. Marco grabbed the still unconscious blonde's arm and help his friend carry her down the hallway. Time was running out. Henry quietly followed along, every so often peering over his shoulder to make sure they weren't gaining ground. "Henry, the code!"

With a shaking hand he pulled out the piece of paper from his pocket and punched in the numbers. He could hear the voices of his grandparents down the hall. His nerves caused his hands to shake yet somehow he managed to hit the correct numbers. When the door buzzed it was ripped open by the youngest member of the trio as the first groan left Emma's lips. Slowly she was starting to wake up.

"Can you help her down?" asked Marco.

Henry nodded as he took hold of his mother's belt. He hadn't ever done this before but he knew he'd manage to pull through somehow.

"Good," said Marco, "August is waiting for you. If you need help just call out to him. Now go! Hurry Henry!" With that they closed the door behind him leaving him in the dark.

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><p>Waves crashed against the wooden boat. The clouds darkened the sky, blocking out the afternoon sun. The smell of the sea filled her senses yet she paid attention to none of it. Pulling her cloak tighter around her body to ward off the wind she looked at the land in the distance. With each jerk of the boat it drifted in and out of sight. It was there she would be safe. That had been promised to her and yet a small quiet voice told her this wasn't right. She didn't know why nor did she have an explanation for this odd feeling. However it quickly vanished leaving her to once again watch the waves crash against the boat.<p>

The closer the boat brought her to land the more the voice gnawed at her mind. Something wasn't right, something was missing. She closed her dark eyes as a large wave crashed into the side of the boat, spraying her with the mist of the sea. It kissed her skin. Suddenly the face of a boy flashed into her mind. His brown hair uncombed and messy but he was looking at her with a smile. A smile that was so familiar to her.

The boat jerked to the side wiping the image away as she tried to stay on her feet. She swallowed the bitterness in her mouth. A chill crept down her spine. Who was that child? The question hung in the air unanswered.

"Land ahoy!"

The announcement pulled her away from the child's now fading face. Perhaps he was no one important. She didn't recognized him. shaking her head free of the remnants, she watched the boat pulled into the docks. A ramp was being lowered onto the deck where someone stood waiting. The bitterness in her mouth strengthened.

The woman standing on shore smiled. It wasn't friendly or comforting. It was a cold, evil smile. One that spoke volumes of her little triumph. "Regina," she said, the smile never falling from her lips, "It's been such a long time, my dear." She held her arms open to the passenger stepping off the boat. "Welcome home."

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><p><strong>*beneath a huge pile of papers a hand shoots out* I'm ALIVE! *digs way out of homework* Ha! Betcha you were expecting more angsty romance. I was thinking about it but this will be more fun. Promise. Throwing in a bit of mystery atm. Enjoy! I'd love to hear people's theories. Review!<br>**  
><strong>I need a second beta! Is anyone interested? PM me, please!<br>**


	4. Chapter 4

****I got a second beta. Woooo! A big thank you to RileyGirl1 for fixing all my mistakes. Trust me there were a lot. Anyway onto the story!****

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><p>The sound of gentle tapping silenced the conversation. Slowly every head turned towards the newcomer. Mr. Gold raised an eyebrow. "What is this?" His vagueness told them he knew what had transpired, of their little accident. His serpentine gaze fell upon each face, waiting for one of them to speak up. "No one plans to explain?"<p>

"It wasn't our fault," said James, rising to his feet.

"Of course not, dearie" mocked Mr. Gold. "Next you'll tell me you had no idea it was going to happen."

"It was Henry," Dr. Whale quickly cut in. "He was in the room when the alarm went off. By the time we got there, he and Emma were gone."

"Henry," repeated Gold. He looked around the room to discover the boy was in fact missing. "And why was he left alone in there?"

Dr. Whale swallowed the lump forming in his throat, "It was my fault, Mayor. I didn't think he'd do anything."

"You fool. You underestimated the boy who helped free you? Do you have any idea what could happen now? What if he goes looking for his mother? Do you want to go back to being Regina's lapdogs?" The Mayor of Storybrooke watched as the people in the room shook their heads. "Then find him and the Sheriff. Or our deal is off." Without waiting for a response, he limped out of the hospital.

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><p>"How is your prisoner?" the rugged sea captain asked after a hearty drink. His gaze turned away from his dinner and to the woman sitting at the head of the table.<p>

Cora plucked the goblet from the right of her plate, swirled its contents around slowly, and briefly glanced at the castle walls before responding. "_Guest_, my dear. She is my _guest_," gently correcting him.

The captain gave her an amused look before nodding, "How is your _guest_ then?"

A smile made its way to Cora's lips, "Thanks to you, she remembers nothing of the past three decades. It's almost as if she never left my side." A sigh left her before she took a drink of the wine.

"Is that good?" He treaded carefully with the powerful witch.

"Oh, yes," said Cora, "My little girl is perfectly fine and you, Hook, have done a most marvelous job."

Finishing the remaining wine in his goblet, Hook rose to his feet. "It's what you paid me for," he answered casually. "I always get the job done for the right price. Shall we?" While speaking, he'd moved closer to the elderly witch, and now offered her his hand. A warm, seductive smile graced his bearded face as the witch silently slipped her hand in his, allowing the pirate to lead her from the dining room.

**Elsewhere in the Castle**

Rich, dark eyes stared up at the starry night. There was a dull ache in her heart that she couldn't explain. The face of a child followed her every movement, lingering behind her eyelids. She somehow knew the child was behind the ache in her heart, but she couldn't say why. The more she thought about him, the more she felt her heart breaking. Sometimes when she closed her eyes long enough, she could see a figure standing next to him. A hand lay on his shoulder, the owner's features blurred. All she knew was that the vague, apparently female figure had long blonde hair. Who could these people be? Had she met them before? Were they important to her? Frustratingly, the answers eluded her as the questions only grew more plentiful and painfully persistent.

Suddenly, a drop of water landed on her palm. Her gaze returned to the sky expecting to see dark clouds beginning to block out the stars. Instead, the night remained just as still and clear as it had been when she'd first ventured out onto the balcony. Confused, her eyes shifted downward to the sleeping land below – just as she felt the second drop.

Curiously examining the wetness on her skin, she raised her hand to her cheek. There, to her surprise, she found her face covered in tears. "Why am I…?" the words fading as the image of the mysterious child and woman standing with him appeared again in her mind's eye. "Who are you?" she whispered. The night did not respond.

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><p>"Are we safe here?" asked Henry tentatively, looking around the warm and somewhat inviting cabin. He was young but not out of touch with the latest developments in his town. He knew that since Mr. Gold had become Mayor, Storybrooke had transitioned from a sleepy little town to a downright dangerous place to live. For the first time in his life, he found himself actually afraid of the dense Maine forest that surrounded them, even during the daylight. He couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible now roamed those woods, hiding, waiting, sensing weakness. It was almost as if the forest itself was alive and hungry, patiently waiting to devour them. Henry was certain Mr. Gold was behind this sensation and had probably unleashed even more evil on the land.<p>

Responding to Henry's question, August said, "For now. It's not much but it's something. We have a slight advantage here. Let's not waste it." He carried two cups of hot chocolate over to the small table. "Come, Henry, you need something warm. Don't worry, Emma isn't going anywhere."

Henry looked at his sleeping mother before reluctantly leaving her side. During their escape she had briefly woken, only to pass right back out again. He worried about her. Had they rescued her too late? Was she still the Emma he knew and loved? He chewed his lower lip nervously. Without her, Henry knew they'd never survive a battle against Mr. Gold.

Over the past few days, Henry had found himself slowly understanding that Gold was a bigger threat than his mother had ever been. He hated himself for having been so blind, for all the hurtful things he'd said to the woman who had raised him, and for so much more. If he could take it all back, knowing then what he knew now, he would. His eyes began slowly filling with tears.

August saw the sadness in Henry and immediately reacted. "Hey," he said gently, placing his hand on the boy's arm. Henry looked at him, pleadingly. August knew the child needed hope now. "We will get Emma back."

"I'm not worried about that," said Henry, "Emma will always come back to help us. That's why she's the White Knight."

"Then why the long face?"

"I was thinking –" Henry stopped there, suddenly fearful, remembering how everyone had turned against Regina. He shrugged, took a small sip of his hot chocolate, careful not to burn his tongue, and looked down at the table. He wasn't sure how much to say. Would his feelings regarding _her_ still matter to any of them?

"About?" August asked. Henry didn't answer. August sighed. "Kid, you can talk to me. We're on the same team here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," nodded August, "'Course I'm sure. I don't like this place any more than you do with Gold in charge. It's not right."

"I was thinking about my mom," said Henry carefully, affectionately.

"We got her back, Hen–"

"Not Emma," interrupted the boy, "My _mom_." He still refused to call Regina anything other than 'mom'. It was a strange sort of thing, he knew. After all, he had been convinced she was the Evil Queen, and he had turned on her, left her like everyone else. But, like the mother she was, she had stuck by him, her _son_, no matter what he had done to her. He had come to understand, his thoughts and feelings only now solidifying within him at this exact moment in time, that she truly was his mother, above all. He suddenly had a desperate desire to see Regina, to tell her how he felt, how sorry he was, how much he loved her.

"Oh." August hadn't quite expected that answer.

"I want to see her," said Henry, "Is Mr. Gold still keeping her in the Sheriff's office?"

"You haven't heard, have you?" August sighed when the child shook his head. "No, of course you haven't. They'd never tell you," he muttered.

Leaning forward, August offered the boy a smile. It was meant to be reassuring, but he doubted it was. "Regina escaped. We don't know how but she's managed to break free from Gold. Now no one knows where she is. Henry, your mother is missing."

* * *

><p>"Eat the apple."<p>

It wasn't a suggestion.

In front of her was a beautiful red apple, large and holding promises of a juicy and delicious center. It was probably the tastiest-looking apple she had ever seen in her life. The longer she looked at it, the more her mouth watered. Involuntarily, Emma licked her lips.

"After everything you've done to me. The things you've taken away, the pain you've caused. Eat the apple."

Alarmingly, Emma found she actually _wanted_ to eat it. The apple was calling her by some unseen force, beckoning her almost lovingly, tauntingly, to take that first bite. Just a single bite, it promised with its mesmerizing shine, a single taste – and she would be able to sate the mouthwatering hunger growing desperately inside her.

"They see you as innocent, Snow, but I know blood stains your hands no less than it does mine."

The apple dazzled under the sun as Emma reached for it. Then she heard a name that wasn't hers.

"Eat the apple, Snow."

There it was again. Her name wasn't Snow. No, this wasn't right. This wasn't her memory. Emma shook her head. She pushed the apple away from her. It fell to the ground, tumbling into the soft grass.

"How dare you!"

Now, _that _voice was familiar. Emma looked around for its owner. Yet all she saw was the apple in the grass, still calling for her, whispering silent promises of wonders she might never know if she let this opportunity pass. "This isn't right," said Emma, shaking her head once more. "Show yourself!" she screamed angrily to the tree, the apple, the very air itself. "Now!"

"I'm right here, dear Snow."

Emma spun blindly on the spot hoping to face the voice coming directly from her left. There was nothing there. Had it been in that direction after all? She felt her fear fueling her anger.

"Stop calling me that! I'm not Snow!" yelled Emma, still looking around wildly. She saw only blue sky, several more trees, and a hill – still, she could feel the intruder's presence. She realized, ice solidifying in her chest, that none of what she was witnessing was familiar to her. "Where am I?"

"Have you lost your mind, girl?"

The Sheriff paused. That voice reminded her of someone. She closed her eyes and thought hard, pushing her muddled and displaced brain to its limits, but to no avail. The woman's identity remained infuriatingly just out of reach. Why couldn't Emma see her? "Who are you?!" Emma demanded again of her invisible guest, clenching her fists tightly down at her sides.

Suddenly, the world began to spin out of control. Colors blended everywhere. Blue blurred into green, light into dark, her body twisting and contorting into unnatural positions. Nothing was making any sense. A sharp burst of light blinded her.

"Eat the apple!" the voice commanded her.

"But I'm not Snow. I'm _not_ the one who hurt you," protested Emma. She felt as though she was floating. This couldn't be good. She strained her eyes into the vastness surrounding her, frantically trying to catch a glimpse of the speaker, the one with the pained voice, the one behind the suffering she had supposedly caused. But she could see nothing. "I'm not Snow." She called out again, becoming tired of this ridiculously frustrating game. " I'm –"

But she faltered, realizing she had no idea what her name was. It appeared that this, the most trivial of facts, like everything else, had abandoned her as well. She felt so defeated.

"Eat the apple," repeated the voice.

"Who am _I_?" yelled Emma, now rephrasing her question with what strength she had left. The red apple appeared again in front of her.

"Wake up," a different voice called to her, seemingly from a great distance. This one was kinder, gentler. "Wake up. You have to wake up, sweet –"

Emma thought she'd heard a name, but it had been muffled by the rich laughter now echoing all around her. Then, without warning, the entire world was engulfed in white light, and everything, including the voices, just disappeared.

* * *

><p><strong>Hook and Cora are officially my guilty pleasure couple. Don't care what anyone says. Sometimes a bad witch needs a handsome pirate captain to wash out the cave. Dundundun! Regina has no memory of anything. Emma can't remember who she is. And Mr. Gold is mayor. Say WHAAAAAAT! Twisty twist twist!<br>**


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